Of love and war
by Carrie86
Summary: Filling in the gap between series 1 and 2. Basically, it's the story of how Anna and Mr Bates got together.
1. Chapter 1

Mr Carson handed out the morning post at the servants' breakfast, as usual. Mr Bates had a letter from an address in Dublin. He put it into the inside pocket of his jacket with a look of trepidation on his face.

"Ooh, from my mum!" said Anna, smiling and putting her letter into the pocket of her apron. "I'll look forward to reading that."

"News from home?" said William. "That's nice." But he didn't entirely look as if he thought it was.

...

"Is there any news from Matthew, Cousin Isobel?" asked Lady Grantham as she helped herself to a piece of sponge cake from William's tea tray.

"Not recently, no," Isobel replied. "I heard from him every week at the start, but in his last letter he said something like, 'The training is dragging on a bit now, so I haven't any news.'"

The Dowager Countess gave a loud but not entirely genuine laugh. "Dragging on! Oh dear."

"He must be anxious to get to the Front," said Lady Grantham.

"Yes," said Isobel, dropping the countess's gaze instantly.

Mary looked away.

...

"Mabel!" called Mrs Hughes to the maid at the top of the servants' staircase. "Have you seen Anna anywhere?"

"No, Mrs Hughes."

"Oh well, I guess I'll do the linen order later, then. Mrs Patmore?" Mrs Hughes strode towards the kitchen. "Are you free to go over the food order with me now?"

"I wish you'd just let me do it myself," said the cook, appearing at the kitchen door with a frown on her face.

"I'll let you help me, Mrs Patmore," said the housekeeper sternly. "Like I let Anna help me with the linen order."

"The head housemaid should _make_ the linen order and the cook should _make_ the food order – you're only making more work for yourself!"

...

"I wonder what else we can do to help," said Sybil as she and Edith climbed into the car outside the hospital.

"Don't ask me," said her sister. "I only came because Cousin Isobel insisted."

"That's more than Mary managed."

"I don't see how _we_ can arrange a fundraising party. Mama usually does that kind of thing."

"Then we'll ask Mama how. Maybe we can make it a regular thing, once every two months or something. What do you think, Branson?"

"I think it's a nice idea, my lady," said the chauffeur, "But it'll take a lot more than a fundraiser to stop the suffering across Europe."

"There, you see?" said Lady Edith. "It's not as if we can actually do anything."

"On the contrary," said Lady Sybil. "If everybody thought that, the whole war would stand still and the poor wounded soldiers would never be cared for, but if we all do our bit, we can really make a difference."

The chauffeur smiled.

...

"Have you seen Anna?" said Miss O'Brien to William as she entered the servants' hall carrying a blue dress. "She's not in any of the bedrooms, she's completely disappeared!"

"No, sorry," William replied.

"Have you seen Anna, Mrs Hughes?" asked Miss O'Brien, stepping back into the corridor to catch the passing housekeeper. "Her ladyship wants to give this dress to Lady Sybil. Apparently his lordship's had quite enough of her wearing that callottey thing, and about time too."

"Is Anna still not back?" asked Mrs Hughes.

"Back? Back from where?"

"Nowhere, I don't know, I haven't seen her since lunch."

"That's not like Anna," said Mr Bates, rising from his chair.

"Well I do hope she hasn't gone to the moon," said Miss O'Brien. "Because I certainly won't be re-fitting this dress."

"Has anyone else seen her?" asked Mr Bates, looking at the handful of other maids and footmen in the room. There were a few shaking heads and shrugging shoulders, but nobody said anything.

"Excuse me," said Daisy, peering between Miss O'Brien and Mrs Hughes and into the room. "Oh, there it is," she said, moving to collect a small pot from the centre of the table.

"Would you mind having a look for her, Mr Bates?" asked Mrs Hughes. "I can't spare any time myself, I'm afraid. If she's not upstairs…could she have gone to the village?"

"Who are you looking for?" asked Daisy, pausing at the door.

"Anna," William explained.

"Oh, she went out," said Daisy.

"Out?" Mrs Hughes raised her eyebrows. "Out where?"

"I dunno, she just ran out of the house a little while ago."

"When?"

"Just after lunch. She was reading that letter from her mum while she finished her cup of tea, and then she just ran out."

"Oh dear," said Mrs Hughes.

"Perhaps she's had bad news," said Mr Bates.

"It sounds like it," said the housekeeper. "Daisy, why didn't you tell anyone about this?"

"I'll find her," said Mr Bates, and he left without another word.

"Oh my, such drama," sighed Miss O'Brien, the dress crumpling on her lap as she sank into a chair.

...

He tried the courtyard first, and then the rose garden. It was winter, but Anna had once told him that she liked the shapes of plants almost as much as their leaves and flowers. She could find something positive to say about even the harshest winter landscape.

John's knee began to hurt as he sped up, heading towards the temple. Then he remembered something Anna had once said about the soothing sight and sound of water.

Turning around, John hurried towards the lake.

...

"Can I leave this dress with you?" asked Miss O'Brien, poking her head into Mrs Hughes' office.

The housekeeper's eyebrows rose again. "Why?"

"Because Anna doesn't have a sitting room."

"Oh I suppose so." Mrs Hughes looked back down at her order book.

"I don't know why you sent him after her. Now they'll both be gone for hours."

The housekeepers' head snapped up again. "_What_ are you suggesting, Miss O'Brien?"

"Oh, nothing. Only that she won't be able to hurry back if she has to walk with _him_."

...

He finally saw her, sitting on a bench beside the lake. She was hunched forward slightly, and he could see the open letter in her hands, but she wasn't looking at it. She was gazing at the lake. He walked towards her.

She saw him when he was about ten metres away, and she jumped and began folding the letter and wiping her eyes.

"No no, as you were," he said. "It's alright."

"Oh no, how long have I been away? Are they wondering where I am?"

"It's fine."

"I didn't mean to be away this long!" Anna jumped up. "What time is it?"

"It doesn't matter."

"Yes it does, I'm meant to be at work!"

"You work hard enough the rest of the time. Let's sit down." John sat down on the bench, and looked up at Anna.

"They don't know where I am, though."

"Mrs Hughes has sent me to look for you. In time, I will bring you back, but first you have to tell me what's wrong."

The letter was still in Anna's hands. She looked down and put it back in its envelope. "Worst letter of my life," she said.

John simply looked at her, his face etched with concern. She sat down beside him.

"My younger brother…has been killed," she said.

John shook his head, looked at the ground, then back at her.

"He was 18." Anna bit her lip.

"Oh, Anna. I'm so sorry."

"So Mum wrote me this letter asking me to come home for the wake – they can't have a funeral because he fell on some battlefield somewhere and they can't…" Her voice wavered, but she continued. "She wrote me the letter, and it's covered in her tears. And mine now, I suppose." She looked away.

"There's nothing worse for any mother." John put his hand on hers, and she gripped it. "Or any sister."

"Yeah, well, it's not like it's anything new. My sister Myrtle died of consumption when she was 12, Daniel was cot death, Cousin Bertie had polio… My mum's been pregnant at least 10 times, but she's only got five children… Four now."

"That won't diminish your pain, or the tragedy of this. No young person should die. Particularly not when it can be prevented."

"This war has been going for less than six months, and already so many people have been killed. I knew that, I mean, I know war…does that, it's just… Somehow you always expect it'll happen to somebody else."

John stroked the back of her hand with his thumb. "Does your mother give any more information about it?"

"Just that he was in Flanders. Which is where my other brother Alan is too. He and Mark signed up at the same time – they're in the same regiment, I think, but not the same battalion. Still, if they were in the same place, then…"

"If anything had happened to Alan, your mother would have received a telegram."

Anna nodded. "I'm worried sick about him now, though."

"Of course."

"Alan's…and the rest of them - I'm the second eldest, he's the third, and we all grew up together, you know, but Mark…Mark was the baby. I was there when he said his first word, I took him to school, I…" Anna's voice cracked. "He was my little brother, and he…"

She broke down, and John wrapped his arms around her, drawing her head into his shoulder. She sobbed, and he held her.


	2. Chapter 2

It felt so good to have her in his arms. His heart was breaking for her, he hated to see her like this, but it felt so good to have her in his arms. It felt like what had always been missing from his life, that thing he knew he didn't have but he didn't know what it was, the thing he was searching for without ever knowing how to find it – suddenly, here it was, and it made his heart glow and stiffen at the same time. He knew he couldn't do anything about it. But just for now, to have her in his arms felt absolutely wonderful.

Squeezing her tighter, he leant down and sniffed her hair. She smelled exquisite. He didn't know what it was, just Anna.

He shouldn't be feeling this. He shouldn't be thinking these things. This girl was crying, she needed his help, so what was he doing thinking of her in this way? He had no right. Frowning, he looked away. But he didn't let go of her.

...

"I'll speak to Mr Carson and Mrs Hughes for you," said Mr Bates as they approached the house. "When is the wake?"

"Saturday. I guess I could go down tomorrow evening and come back the following."

"Do you want to stay longer?"

"Not really. I always deal with these things better when I'm working."

"Right. Well, I'll tell them that."

"Thankyou. And thankyou for coming to find me, I'm…I'm really glad it was you."

"Me too."

With a brief, kind but awkward smile, Anna turned and darted up the stairs.

Mr Bates watched her go, and through the corner of his eye he saw Mrs Hughes watching from the end of the hallway.

"Is she alright?" the housekeeper whispered as she stepped towards him.

"I'm afraid her brother has been killed."

Mrs Hughes' face fell. "Oh no. Why do horrible things always happen to the best people."

"I know. Least of all Anna." The emotion was strong in his voice.

"She's three brothers, hasn't she? Which one was it?"

"The youngest. 18 years old."

"Oh my."

"The family are having a wake on Saturday, so Anna would like permission to go tomorrow afternoon and come back Saturday evening. I said I'd speak to you and Mr Carson about it."

"I'm sure that'll be fine, I'll talk to Mr Carson. You'd better be going – he's just rung the dressing gong."

...

"But what do we say to her? When she gets back?" asked Daisy as she poured Mr Carson his cup of tea.

"What do you mean, what do you say to her?" asked Mrs Hughes. "People lose people they love all the time, it doesn't mean you have to treat them any differently!"

"It's going to be happening a lot more from now on," said Mr Carson grimly.

"What do you mean?" asked Daisy.

"Yes, it will," said Mrs Hughes, accepting her cup of tea. "Until we're shot of this war."

Daisy looked down at the teapot, processing this information. She moved around the table to Mr Bates, and suddenly her head popped up again. "You were in a war, Mr Bates!" she said.

The valet nodded.

"Were it really like that? Do people die, just, all the time?"

Mr Bates froze, holding his tea cup in mid-air, his heart beating faster.

"Come now Daisy, don't ask uncomfortable questions," said Mr Carson. "I think we've all heard quite enough of this for now. Anna will be back tomorrow, and I expect you all to treat her kindly."

"Kindly, yeah," said Daisy. "I can do that."

William sipped his tea, looking at Mr Bates in admiration.

...

"I just don't understand," said the earl, frowning as his valet and former comrade held out his jacket. "I've written to them twice now, and got nothing back. No reply."

"I expect they're flooded with such letters, my lord."

"Well I can hardly go down to the local recruiting office."

"I'm sure they will respond in time."

"I thought they'd be dying for help from people like us!"

"Not people like me, my lord."

"I don't mean to go to the front, I mean training, tactics, administration…anything! Or was I not senior enough for that?"

John frowned and busied himself with replacing Lord Grantham's day suit in the wardrobe, desperately hoping that that was the reason, rather than that the earl had been tainted by employing someone who was dishonourably discharged, and the military wanted nothing to do with him as a result. Surely not, he thought. "I'm sure they will respond in time, my lord."

...


	3. Chapter 3

Anna arrived back just before the servants' dinner, and ate in her travelling clothes. John didn't have much time to talk to her before she had to rush and change into her uniform so she could prepare the young ladies for bed. In any case, he thought it best to leave her be, to let her be quiet, but he did make sure he waited in the servants' hall until she'd finished her work, as indeed he'd found himself doing more and more often over the past few months. Or, if he was the one who finished later, he would usually find her waiting for him. Sometimes it was in the servants' hall and sometimes it was in the courtyard, but they always tried to have a little chat before bed, even if it was only a short one. John tried to remember how long this had been going on. In the early days it had been only if they'd had mending work to do and had both been in the servants' hall anyway, or sometimes it was because there was a group of servants in there having a conversation. But more and more often, it had become just her and him, and the previous night, when she'd been away, he'd realised just how much he had come to rely on Anna to make the evening fulfilling and, in doing so, to make the entire day worthwhile, worth his having lived through it. She made his life worthwhile. She made the world worth turning. His world, anyway.

Miss O'Brien was going on about the blue dress again. When Lady Grantham had heard about Anna's grief she'd agreed that the dress would have to wait, but Mrs Hughes had insisted that Miss O'Brien at least make a start on it and let Anna finish it when she got back.

"I hope she's going to take it off me tonight, then," the lady's maid was saying. "I do have other things to do, her ladyship's given me a dress of hers to mend as well, and I can't be expected to -"

"Just shut up, Miss O'Brien," said Mr Bates.

"I beg your pardon!"

"Is this really the time to be complaining about your workload, when Anna's is at least twice as much, and her brother's just died – it's not as if she's been slacking off, she works twice as hard as you do, and that you would show her so little courtesy at a time like this is -"

"I wasn't accusing her of slacking off, I was just saying that I hope she takes the dress off me now because I've not got room for -"

"You've been going on about this like a demented parrot for nearly three days – do you know what Anna has been going through for those three days? Do you even want to know, did it occur to your self-centred, rotten little mind that -"

"Don't speak to me like that! I'll report you to Mr Carson!"

"Oh, and whose side is he going to take? Who's -"

Anna appeared in the doorway, and John fell silent.

"What's going on?" Anna asked.

William and the two maids who were sitting at the far end of the table just looked at her, as dumbstruck as they had been throughout the whole exchange.

"Anna, will you take this dress off me please? I'm sick of it." Miss O'Brien thrust a garment bag towards Anna as Mr Bates slammed his fist on the table with a thud powerful enough to lift everything on it.

"Now now, what's going on?" said Mrs Hughes, stepping into the room. "I can hear you from behind the closed door of my sitting room!"

"Sorry, Mrs Hughes," said Mr Bates politely, not taking his angry eyes off Miss O'Brien.

"What's the dress for?" asked Anna calmly.

Breaking Mr Bates' icy stare, Miss O'Brien looked up. "For Lady Sybil," she said. "You have to alter it."

"Oh, you're not giving her that now are you, Miss O'Brien?" said Mrs Hughes. "She's only just back. It's not urgent, is it?"

"Well, her ladyship did ask for it to be done two days ago."

"Yes, and Anna had to go away, so I asked you to do it! What have you done – it looks the same as it did before!"

"I've unpicked the hem!"

"Is that all? Have you even put it on Lady Sybil?"

"I thought Anna was going to do that!"

"Hold on," said Anna, still the only calm voice in the room, "Why is everyone making such a fuss about a dress? There are more important things in the world."

The housekeeper nodded. "Thankyou, Anna." She looked around at the younger servants. "Off to bed, all of you! This isn't important." She waited until they'd all filed out before lowering her voice and saying, "The dress shouldn't even be in a room like this, Miss O'Brien, that's very careless of you. What if it got marked?"

"That's why I've got it in a garment bag."

"Mrs Hughes," said Mr Bates. "Miss O'Brien brought that dress down here, in a garment bag, solely for the purpose of giving it to Anna when she's only just back from her brother's funeral. Do you think that's disrespectful?"

Mrs Hughes raised her eyebrows. "Is that so, Miss O'Brien? You brought the family's fine clothes into the servants' hall just so you could catch Anna before she went to bed? Couldn't it wait until tomorrow, when you could make the transfer in a more appropriate place like a bedroom or dressing room?"

Miss O'Brien's resolve faltered for the first time. "Well, I…"

"Take it out of here at once! What would Mr Carson say?"

Scowling, Miss O'Brien left the room.

"I'm sorry, to both of you," said Mr Bates. "I don't normally force my opinion on an issue such as this, I just thought that she was being unreasonable. I didn't mean to cause a fuss."

"Don't be sorry," said the housekeeper. "You were right, she was being unreasonable, and she's been parroting on about it for two days now. I've half a mind to let Anna off and make her do the whole thing."

"Don't do that," said Anna. "If it's for Lady Sybil, I should do it. And I would have done, but I didn't know about it until now."

"Of course you didn't, don't worry about it. It doesn't matter, anyway. How are you?" Mrs Hughes placed her hand on Anna's arm.

"I'm fine, thanks."

"Good. You'll let me know if I can help in any way, won't you?"

"Certainly. Thankyou."

"And make sure you get to bed soon, alright? Both of you."

Mrs Hughes left, and John and Anna were alone. She was looking at him quizzically. He found he couldn't meet her gaze. He stared at his hands. "I'm sorry. That got out of hand."

Anna sat down next to him. "Thankyou for standing up for me. I wouldn't have taken offence, really, but it was nice to see Miss O'Brien get a talking to."

She looked at him with a twinkle in her eye, and he couldn't help but smile.

"It's all go go go around here, isn't it? What did I miss?"

"Just Miss O'Brien talking about a dress for two days."

"Ooh. Riveting."

"I am sorry, honestly, I don't normally lose my temper like that. At least, I try not to." He winced at the lie.

"There's nothing to be sorry about. Anyway, there are more important things than dresses."

John winced again. "Of course there are. I'm sorry."

"Stop apologising."

Their eyes met briefly, and then, as always, they looked away.

"So how are you? How was it?"

"Oh, terrible. Probably the worst experience of my life. Or at least in the top five."

"How's your mother?"

"Terrible. Yes."

"I'm so sorry."

"Not only her though…" Anna sighed. "I hadn't known this, but Mark had a sweetheart. Emma, her name is. Absolutely devastated. She couldn't even speak, she was crying that much. I can't even imagine…" Anna looked at John, fear in her eyes.

He put a hand on hers, partly to comfort her, partly because he wanted to touch her again. He immediately berated himself for his selfishness.

"I'm glad you have a cane. It means you can stay here."

John nodded. "It's a selfish thing to say, but…I'm glad too."

"You know, Mark got his leg stuck in the harvester when he was a boy. Mum saw it, and she screamed to Dad to stop the horse. If she'd been a second later, he would have lost his leg. Now she's saying she wishes he had, because then he couldn't have gone to war."

"What life would he have had, though?"

"Yeah, that's what I said."

"And he could have died then from loss of blood. He probably would have."

They heard a noise in the corridor, and their hands jumped apart, but nobody came. John began fidgeting with his fingernails.

"Mum received a letter from Michael Johnson, a boy from our village who was in Mark's battalion. A lot of people from our village are in the same battalion. Anyway, he'd taken it upon himself to explain what had happened, which was that Mark was shot during a charge on the enemy trenches, apparently, but he said something we thought was a bit strange, I wonder if you might know what he meant. He said something like, 'He was running one minute and out of it the next, and that is a blessing.'"

John nodded.

"You know what it means? It is a figure of speech that soldiers use?"

"No, but it is a blessing, I'm very glad to hear that. He died in battle."

"How is that a good thing?"

"Well, there are many ways to die in a war. You can catch a horrible disease, you can be blown to pieces, you can be only partly blown up and be lying on the battlefield with your insides hanging…hanging out…you can be captured and starved or tortured by the enemy. You can be…have a – a bayonet pressed through your – your back, or…"

Anna was looking at him in horror.

"And those men die in pain, hours or days later, in a hospital or, if they're really unlucky, lying alone in no man's land somewhere… So to be killed by one clean shot in a battle is a blessing not given to many. He was running, he was fighting, with honour and strength, and then he was dead. He didn't know anything about it."

"So he didn't suffer?"

"No."

"Wouldn't he have been afraid, though? To run out into no-man's land with all the enemy's guns pointed at him?"

John shrugged. "They're used to it. Soldiers face death every day, you make your peace with it before you run out."

Anna's heart began to beat faster. "Is that what it was like for you?"

"Yes. And believe me, soldiers pray for that kind of death. That's not what they fear."

"What do they fear?"

"The other kinds of death. And suffering. Mark did not suffer, and that is wonderful."

Anna nodded, her eyes wide.

"And the other thing is… Obviously, soldiers want to come home safely, they pray for that, but many of them know that it's unlikely. Generally, though, I think most of them would just like to get out. You do get the odd gung-ho nutter who loves his job, but most of them just can't wait for it to be over – those who've been there long enough to know the truth of it, anyway. And dying is another way out. A way to…be free. Obviously coming home is better, but even that brings a lot of challenges – how to be normal and fit in with your family after what you've seen and done… A lot don't manage it. And the way this war is going, the only ones that'll be coming home any time soon are the ones that are severely wounded. Dying cleanly is the easiest way to get away from it. So Mark didn't suffer, and now he is free."

"Is it really that horrible? Did you just want to get out the whole time?"

"No, not the whole time. Times when we were on leave were good. And times when we were marching through a beautiful landscape, or… but it sounds like the Western Front is mostly just mud. Not much beauty there. Look, nothing can bring him back, and it will never stop being a tragedy, it should not have happened, and I'm sure you will never stop missing him, but… it could have been a lot worse. And at least now, he's free. You don't have to worry about him anymore."

"I have to worry about Alan, though."

John winced. He'd forgotten about Alan.

"What is he facing now?"

"Mostly a lot of waiting – it's best not to think about…possibilities. He spends a lot of his days waiting for something to happen, and when he goes on leave he has a good time."

"What if he gets blown apart or…what did you say about bayonets in the back – what would cause that to happen?"

John's body stiffened. "Ah, that's…that's hand-to-hand combat, that's when…you – you stumble across an enemy soldier, or he stumbles across you, or maybe it's an advance and you have to…" John's palms were sweating. This was one of his worst war memories. "But if you're lucky he'll just kill you with one thrust, it doesn't have to be – it doesn't have to be very bad, if the one who's doing the bayonetting knows what he's doing, then -"

"Hey, you're shaking." Anna put a hand on his arm, and he realised that the arm was practically vibrating.

"I'm sorry, Anna, I need to stop talking about this."

"Yep, that's fine. Just stop."

He raised a shaking hand to his face. "I'm sorry." He was struggling to breathe.

Anna rubbed a hand across his back. "It's OK. Just breathe."

"Can you say something to take my mind off it?"

"Miss O'Brien got told off. Mrs Hughes said she'd rather get her to do the dress."

"No, that just makes me angry."

"Look at me, Mr Bates."

John's eyes were screwed shut, his body still shaking.

She placed her hand on his cheek and began to stroke it. "John, look at me."

John turned. He looked.

She smiled. She continued to stroke his cheek, and his hair. "It's alright. You got through it. You're very brave."

"No I'm not. When you're there you have to do it, you don't have a choice."

"Not only to do it, but to deal with it afterwards."

John shook his head. "I became an alcoholic afterwards. I didn't deal with it at all."

Realisation dawned. Anna nodded. "I see. But you got through that. That was brave too."

He took out a handkerchief and wiped his brow. "Oh dear. I'm meant to be supporting you in your grief, but here you are comforting me."

"That's fine, this is a two-way relationship."

He looked at her, and she could see a hundred emotions playing behind his eyes. She immediately regretted her choice of words.

"Yes," he said, slowly and deliberately. "It is."

There it was again, that look in his eyes. The look he reserved for her. The look he gave her all the time. His mouth said one thing, and his eyes said another. Except that just now, his mouth had said the same thing. Did it? Did he say that? "What do you mean?" she asked.

He looked surprised, confused. "I was just agreeing with you." Then he looked away.

Anna sighed. "Do you think that we should talk about this, Mr Bates?"

"Talk about what?"

"Whatever is going on between us."

Mr Bates swallowed. "There's nothing, there can't…"

"Yes there can, and there is – the way you look at me! You push me away with your words, and then with your eyes, you – you're doing it now! Why do you look at me like that?"

John knew very well why, but he couldn't say it.

"Because it's the way I look at you too. And if we both feel the same way, then why are we -"

"It's a look of longing, that's what it is. Longing for something that I can never have."

Anna frowned, confused. "You know how I feel."

"And you know how I…am."

"Yes, but…can we at least be honest with each other? So we don't have these awkward pauses in the middle of our conversations, so we don't…so you don't push me away – it hurts me when you do that!"

The look of longing became a look of sadness, but he held her gaze this time. "I think we should continue this conversation outside," he said.


	4. Chapter 4

He sat down on the crate, and began fiddling with his cane.

She sat next to him. She wasn't sure what to say now. These were precisely the kind of awkward pauses that she was hoping to get rid of. She got the sense that he wanted to say something, so she decided the best thing to do was to just be silent and wait, no matter how long it took.

That didn't mean she couldn't touch him, though. She had greatly enjoyed touching him these past few days. She put a hand on both of his, stilling their movement on the cane. Then she took one of his hands in hers, and to her surprise, he leant down, kissed her hand and held it to his face.

"I've been looking for her," he said. "For about six months now. I've been writing to everyone I can think of that knew her. But no luck. So last week I put an ad in a Dublin newspaper, and I got a letter from her cousin. But he hasn't seen her either. And he's a milkman in Dublin, he knows everybody, and he owns the business so he has a bit of capital and power. If she'd gone to Dublin, she would have gone to him for help, to set her up with something. I thought she might have gone there, but…if he hasn't seen her, then I don't know where else to look. Of course, the other option is that he's lying, that she's convinced him to hide her whereabouts. I'm sure she knows exactly where I am, and by now she's probably heard that I'm looking for her, but she'll only reveal herself when it's convenient for her. If that ever happens. So I'm afraid there isn't much hope."

He turned to look at her for the first time since they'd come outside.

She began to smile.

"Did you hear me, Anna? There's not -"

"You're a glass half empty man, aren't you?"

"Well…I'll keep trying, but…"

"I am overjoyed that you're trying." She smiled, and it radiated through her eyes and warmed his soul. She moved closer and put her arm around him. He was giving her that look again.

"Thankyou for not pushing me away tonight. For engaging with me. You actually talked to me honestly about what's going on! Don't stop there, alright?"

She was dangerously close to him now. He could almost feel her breath on his cheek. He gripped her hand tightly. His eyes fluttered closed, and he felt her lips on his.

For one brief moment, fireworks of joy exploded in his head and for the first time in his life, true happiness was within his grasp. But before he had the time to feel it, guilt set in, and he could see nothing but how wrong this was, how dishonourable and awful it was for a man like him to kiss a woman like this one.

He pulled away, and cried out in frustration. He screwed his eyes shut. "I'm sorry."

"Are you sorry for kissing me or sorry for pulling away? Because the kissing was wonderful but the pulling away was -"

"I'm sorry, Anna, and you have no idea how much. You have no idea that _frustrating_ this is for me! I will keep looking for her and maybe one day I will find her and get a divorce and the second I do, I promise you, I will fall on one knee at your feet and beg you to marry me. But until then, I can't offer you anything, and to be near me will only bring ruin to you, and I am not going to do that, you are worth _so much_ more than that… You deserve a man who can give you the world. I have nothing to offer you, _nothing_."

"No you don't. Did I ever ask you for anything? All I want is your love."

"Of course you have my heart, Anna, but I can't give you anything else."

"Don't be silly. You can give me the best friendship I have ever had. And you can, when we're out here talking, which we're going to do anyway, you can hold my hand. Don't be afraid to touch me, I don't want to be afraid to touch you. I really enjoyed that big hug you gave me on Thursday, and I don't see why we can't do it again. And if, once in a while, we get carried away and have a lovely little kiss like that, there is nothing wrong in that. If we can just be honest with each other, and not run away any time this subject comes up – if we can just be comfortable with each other, like we already are 90% of the time, I'd just like it to be 100% of the time. That's all I'm asking. Just to be honest and comfortable with each other, and to love each other."

"But I may never find her."

"That's OK. If this is all we can ever have, that's fine. It's better than not having it. I didn't ask to fall in love with you, and at the time I didn't know that you were married, but even if I had, it wouldn't have made any difference. Like it doesn't now. Because I can't stop this. It's been over two years now, and I know it's never going to go away. Because with you and me, it just works, it just happens. We can't control it. So if we're going to be in this situation, we might as well be honest about it and we might as well take what happiness we can, because this kind of opportunity doesn't come very often. Once in a lifetime, actually. And I won't let you destroy a once in a lifetime chance to be happy."

"I've never been happy. I always thought happiness was something meant for other people."

"No, it isn't. It's meant for you. And let me show you."

Her lips met his again, and this time, he let it happen. He shut down his mind and let his emotions take control. He leaned into her with his entire body, he stroked her face, he ran his fingers through her hair. His heart felt like it would burst from his chest. He'd lost control, it felt so good, and it was all worth it. All the pain of his entire life was worth it for this one beautiful kiss.

Yes, thought Anna. He's kissing me back. What have I done to deserve this wonderful man? How could I be so lucky? She'll spend her whole life telling him that. She'll spend her whole life smiling at his side, proving to him how much she loves him.

The passion had broken into lots of little kisses now, to her lips, her cheeks, her eyes, her forehead. Finally, he pulled her into a deep embrace, and kissed her hair.

"I love you," she whispered.

"I love you too."

Anna smiled.


End file.
